


What Is Lost Will Be Found

by mansikka



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Canon Divergence, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-12-26 20:20:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18289544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mansikka/pseuds/mansikka
Summary: Michael needs a little time to calm the chaos in his head. Will Alex's suggestion of them going away together be the thing to help?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello :) 
> 
> Okay this is very canon divergent; starting just after Max says Michael isn't his family, then swinging round to after Isobel has magically recovered. This is _all_ Malex and _all_ fluff, so if that's not your thing, turn back, turn back!

He's surprised to see him, as much as Alex looks relieved to see him there. Michael's fist is still bunched up where he was about to give a second round of knocking, paused by Alex yanking open the door. He doesn't say anything, of course, just has that same look of mild frustration, fury, and need all wrapped in one hesitant half-scowl that Alex so often wears when they see each other. Michael fights the urge to kiss it off his face.

"Look. I know you're mad at me, and I know I'm all out of chances. And if you really can't stand to see the sight of me, then just… say the word. I'll turn back around, pretend this never even happened."

Though if Alex tells him to leave, Michael doesn't know where he'll go. Doesn't know what will happen. Alex is his last port in this storm, and if—

"What happened?" Alex asks, concern in his voice and already stepping back to let him in. Michael takes stock of his surroundings in seconds, listens as Alex closes the door behind him, then wonders how the hell he's supposed to begin.

"Nothing much." Michael feels Alex's eyes roll without even turning to look. He listens as he walks, follows his gesture that he sit. And so he does; as close to the edge of the couch as it's possible to get sat bolt upright ready to leave again, in case this all gets too much.

Alex stands and observes him. Michael stares back, because don't they always. He watches Alex's nod that seems to be meant only for himself, then keeps watching as he walks away, returning with beers and pressing one into his hand. Alex sits beside him, though with enough room to give him space, and Michael has always loved that about him. Alex knows what he needs half the time long before he even does. Even if he keeps telling himself they don't know each other all that well at all.

"It's nothing. Really. I just had a fight with Max."

"You fight a lot?" Alex asks, observing but not pushing, giving him the chance to talk if he wants. And for once Michael _does_ want. Though doesn't have a clue what to say even if he can get started.

"Yeah. Always."

"Families can be like that."

Alex would know. In _their_ history, Michael has seen the bruises, the tears after arguments, been on the receiving end of frustrated kisses when Alex has needed to forget. Michael has always wished in those moments he could give Alex everything he needed to make it better. And Alex has always looked at Michael like the only thing he needs is _him_.

But this fight, this is different, Max's fury more vicious than anything Michael's been on the receiving end of. He's never said that they weren't _family_ before, showing how much he hates Michael for his part in sending away Liz. And the thing is, Michael understands it. He tried on for size how _he_ would cope with anyone sending away the man he's sat beside just now, and _knows_ how true Max's hate for him currently is. And he's _known_ that pain too, cried himself raw when Alex left. So he gets it, truly he does. But Max and Isobel are all Michael has ever had, aside from Alex. And if he doesn't even have family to cling on to when _Alex_ doesn't want him—

"Isobel's sick."

"She is?"

Alex's hand is already on his back and his face filled with concern when Michael looks. Michael fights against leaning in to his touch, barely holding on. "Yeah."

"Well, what happened?"

He can't even say. Michael wants right now, more than anything, to share everything with Alex. Because he's never felt this alone in the world, and the whole world feels like a burden. "Just… it's complicated. Seizures."

And now, he doesn't want to even _think_. He doesn't want to be in his head, wants to lose himself in another person. He wants to lose himself in _Alex_ ; he always does. So Michael gulps back some beer then snags the bottle from Alex's fingers, lowering both to the floor by his side. He turns without thinking, grabs Alex's face and claims a hard, desperate kiss. And as always Alex kisses him back just as hard, always willing to give him this.

Their shirts are off in seconds. Never has Michael felt more grounded than when he's on Alex's skin. He tugs him closer, half-intent on getting Alex into his lap. But the slight hiss he pulls back with means his leg is hurting. Michael loathes himself for it, resting his hand over where Alex's leg sits in his prosthetic.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Alex replies with a quick snap of his head, and an even quicker kiss. "But I want you to… maybe you could talk to me."

" _Talk_?" Michael says, laughing as he reaches for him again. Even if that's exactly what he wants.

Alex pulls back just before he kisses him, giving Michael a curious smile. "Yes. _Talk._ You've obviously got a lot going on in there."

Michael closes his eyes to the thumb jabbed softly to his forehead, shaking his head. "I don't."

"You always do. Chaos, remember?"

Michael kisses Alex's hand before he can pull away, pleading with him to give him what he wants. Even if he's so conflicted right now about what that is. "Look, Alex—"

"Talk to me."

How is Michael supposed to resist that softness, resist that voice? He groans and tries to pull away again, but Alex tugs until he's on his back, and Michael has his head on his chest. And before he can stop himself, before he lets himself hesitate, all his words come tumbling out. Alex holds him through it, never once interrupts, presses kisses everywhere he can get to when Michael's words get too much. And Michael just can't _stop_ talking now that he's started. So many things he's never shared with anyone. So many thoughts he would never have dared to say out loud.

But Alex just listens, a calm presence soothing all the anger and sorrow in Michael's heart. And when the last word is out Michael doesn't feel raw, or exposed like he'd expected. Michael is free, lighter for it. He feels relieved for sharing so many things he's wanted to for the longest time.

"We could go away for a while," Alex says later, still cradling Michael to him.

Michael smiles, presses a sleepy kiss to his sternum. "Where would we go?"

"Would it matter? Anywhere that's just… not here."

"Well. It wouldn't matter for _me_ ," Michael replies, propping himself up on his chin against Alex's chest. "But for you, _Private_ —"

"You don't think I've earned a little time off?" Alex replies, nodding down at his leg. Michael strokes his fingertips over his leg, gentle as he can make it, never too sure how much he should touch.

"So, _you_ would leave all this behind, your career, and… whatever else it is that keeps you here, and just… go somewhere? Just like that?"

"With you," Alex says, pushing his fingers through Michael's hair. "I would with you. _For_ you."

"Yeah, right—"

"I would," Alex insists, and Michael thinks he believes him, even if he can't.

"For how long?"

"I guess as long as we needed."

"What if it's forever?"

"How about we start with a month?" Alex says, smiling. Michael has to lean up to taste that smile. He cups his face, smiles against his mouth, then kisses him slow and unhurried. Though that same look of promise is waiting for Michael when he pulls away. He laughs, because he doesn't know what else to do.

"Are you serious?"

"Well," Alex says, running his thumb over Michael's lip, "obviously, you won't want to go anywhere right now, what with Isobel being sick."

"Right." He'd forgotten, for a few minutes at least. This is what Alex does to him; settles all the unpleasantness in his mind.

"But if you want to. After. And it's… we can talk about it again."

Alex kisses him goodbye in the doorway later still and Michael feels giddy for it, like it's the goodbye kiss at the end of a date. He's never had that part, not really, never wanted to with anyone else. But with Alex's hands through his hair and his body pressed close, Michael wants that, wants everything he can get with him.

"We'll talk about it," he says when they pull apart, convinced that if he asks Alex again later, the moment will have passed, and his answer will be a no.

* * *

"Are we seriously doing this?" Michael asks, even as he watches Alex load a bag into the back of his truck. Either the army has taught Alex the secrets of minimalist packing, or they are going to have a lot of laundry to do wherever they go. Not that Michael has much stuff himself, of course, but he is used to living out of a bag. Alec shouldn't be. Alec should have everything he wants.

"Well. I'm on leave now, officially," Alex replies. "I've got people watering plants. My mail's going to a PO box I set up yesterday. Every bit of cash I could get out of every place I could—which, by the way, is quite a lot—I have with me, or on a card. We're good to go. If you still want to, that is."

He does want to. Isobel's okay again, though things are still hostile with Max. Maybe that's how they will always be, how they always have been. But for whatever reason Michael can't brush off the feeling of not being needed, or wanted around. For once he wants something just for himself, to put his own needs before anyone else's. And what he wants and needs right now is standing here looking at him from across the back of his truck.

"This trip on you, Alex?" Michael says, still standing there in disbelief, hearing what Alex is offering him but not sure he understands. "Is that what you're telling me?"

Alex smiles, scuffing his boot in the dirt. "Actually. I guess you could say this is on my dad."

It's too much, far too hilarious. Michael holds on to the truck as he throws his head back with laughter, thinking of the look on Alex's father's face if he could see them now. He'll never forgive him for the mangling of his hand, and he'll always have black thoughts towards the man who beat Alex in an attempt to remove who he was. The idea of this trip now feels vindictive as well as freeing, exciting, and terrifying. He wants it even if it's going to take several hours of actual driving away from Roswell to believe it's really what they're doing.

"Michael Guerin, and Alex Manes, heading out into the big wide world together. Open, in public, no secret rendezvous or pretending we don't know each other, huh? Sounds like one of us has been smoking something good."

Alex smiles, stepping closer, taking Michael's face in his hands. "Yes," he says, with the softest of kisses, leaving Michael to chase his mouth in disappointment when he moves away too fast. Michael watches him smirk as he climbs into the truck, just sitting there and _waiting_ for him like he has no intention of going anywhere. Except, of course, for wherever he's going with _him_.

"You're sure," Michael says when he can convince himself to walk around the truck. He swings the door open and stares, waiting for Alex to still find a reason to bolt.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"For all kinds of reasons," Michael replies, arms wide down by his sides. "For me being _this_ , for one."

Which also could mean many things. But the alien part, that's a new one for Alex, who'd backed away from him for a couple of days after he revealed everything he didn't already know, then showed up in his Airstream with a beer and a hug. Not much talking, but then, when have they found time for that? And isn't that the whole point to this little adventure they're supposed to be taking now?

"That's just one reason why we _should_ ," Alex says, resting his hand on the driver's seat in encouragement. "Get in."

"Alex—"

"If I'm going to get to know you—know you _better_ —know all there is to know about you. It starts with _this_. You, and me, and whatever direction we head in."

It's a fair point, and it's also not as though Michael doesn't have questions of his own. He wants to know the details of Alex's _war_ , to learn what happened to make him lose his leg, and learn what else he lost of himself in the process. Michael wants to know everything there is to know about Alex Manes.

"So. Where're we headed?" Michael says when he climbs in, firing up the engine and starting to drive.

"Anywhere you want."

"You're not gonna miss it? All this?" Michael asks, giving Alex one last chance to back out of this craziness.

"Not even for a minute. Not if I get this with you."

Michael looks down for the hand slid into his lap and smiles, slotting his fingers through.

* * *

They head north. After a six-hour drive during which Michael learns more about Alex than he thinks he's ever done, they stop on the outskirts of Denver, taking a motel room for the night. Their room is a good sized king that's already far nicer than most places Michael has slept in his life. Which he doesn't want to think about; the moment Alex has set his bag down on the desk beside his own Michael is tugging at his jacket, and backing Alex towards the bed.

"What? It's been days," he says when Alex laughs, tells him he's impatient.

"Oh, I'm not complaining."

"No?"

Alex sneaks his hand beneath Michael's shirt and shoves it up, already unbuckling his own belt as he does. "Does it look like it?"

"But if this is the start of our adventure, don't you wanna take a little time?" Michael asks. They're still half-clothed, half-draped over the bed as Michael kisses his way up Alex's chest. Alex's fingers are through his hair; Michael turns his head to kiss his forearm then lunges further up the bed, claiming his mouth.

"Wasn't it me calling _you_ impatient?" Alex teases as Michael braces over him.

"Oh. It was. But that?" Michael says, plucking at Alex's belt. "That's _mine_."

"Only that?"

"Well. All of it."

Alex's fingers are back through Michael's hair as he kisses his way back down him, nosing at him through his jeans. Michael takes his time to unbuckle him, though is impatient enough to yank at his jeans, humming in encouragement when Alex holds himself up to help. He fails to hide his wince in time when Michael tugs, making Michael's gaze fall to his leg once he's stripped him bare.

"I'm fine," Alex says as Michael goes to speak, reaching down to remove the prosthetic himself. Michael presses a kiss to his knee just above his stump, before straightening up to undress.

"Still. That many hours stuck in a car—"

"I'm good. Really," Alex insists, hoisting himself up and around on the bed so his head is on the pillows, already parting his legs for Michael to crawl between.

Michael doesn't believe him, not completely, but he settles between his thighs anyway, looking down to watch the way they're beginning to stir. "We do have all night."

"Yeah," Alex agrees. "Thank you, for wanting to do this with me."

Michael pulls back, confused for his words.

"I mean, coming away with me," Alex tells him, hands sweeping up over his arms.

"It was your idea."

"But thank you for doing it."

Michael mouths at his throat before brushing their lips together, beginning to stir his hips in the way he knows Alex loves. "Gonna cost you."

"Oh, yeah?" Alex says, his hands stroking down over his back and cupping his ass, beginning to roll up to meet him.

"Absolutely."

"What?"

"This," Michael says, nipping at his jaw. "You. This. Every night."

"Let's see if you can keep up," Alex teases. Michael slows for the smirk he gives him.

"Me?"

"Yes."

"Well, you better hold on tight."

Alex groans as he rolls up to meet him, their headboard ringing out against the wall.

* * *

"I got us a gig."

Michael stops mid-bite as Alex slides back into his side of their diner booth looking so pleased with himself Michael can't help smile. "A _gig_?"

"Yes. A way for us to stay somewhere decent for a whole month, without spending all that money."

It's early; maybe that's why Alex isn't making much sense. Michael takes a slurp of his coffee to clear his head, realizing it's not all that early. They just had a very late night in their motel. A _great_ one.

"I thought this trip was on your _dad_."

"Oh. It is," Alex agrees, taking a swig of his coffee, "but this way all his cash goes on… good stuff. Not rent."

"And what does this _gig_ involve?" Michael asks, sure he's never once seen Alex quite as smug as he's looking now.

"Well," Alex says, reaching out easy as anything to take Michael's free hand. "How do you feel about house sitting?"

"How sitting? Like a giant, immovable pet?"

"Exactly. But with bedrooms, furniture, and, from what I heard, a bathtub fit for swimming in."

"I haven't had a real bath in _forever_."

"Oh. I _know_ ," Alex agrees, wrinkling up his nose then laughing when Michael tosses a fry in his face.

"So, what's the catch?"

"What do you mean, what's the catch?"

"There's always a catch to these kinds of things."

Alex ducks his head, smiling to himself. "Well. Unless there are dead bodies in the basement, or ghosts haunting the attic, it's worth a try, right?"

"You just… walked up to a random person here and asked for their _house_?" Michael asks, realizing that he's serious.

"Well, no. There was a sign on the notice board when we came in. When I went to the bathroom I looked, and the owner's daughter just happened to be in."

"And you, what. Flashed your pretty eyelashes and asked for the job?"

"More like, I told her I was looking for some peace for a little while, and that I was military. That means trustworthy for something, still."

"Oh," Michael says, picking up Alex's hand again to lace his fingers through, "they seriously don't know military folk at all round here, then."

Alex's face scrunches up with laughter, and he jabs his thumb into Michael's hand. He's holding his hand here, willingly, against the diner table for all to see. And he's talking about sharing a _house_ with him for a month. This really can't be happening.

"Seriously, though. Are you for real about this?" Michael asks, because even if this _is_ really happening, it's all sounding far too easy. And he says as much, out loud.

Alex sucks in a breath then gives him a pinched smile. "It _is_. This easy, I mean."

Michael knows that tone. He shoves a forkful of fries into his mouth so his words are muffled when he answers. "So there _is_ a catch."

"No. I swear there isn't."

"Then _something_ is up about this."

Alex sags, running his thumb over Michael's like he's trying to placate him, which Michael doesn't like a lot.

"Out with it."

"I just… so maybe before we left, I was thinking about this. About what could be good for us to—we've never spent more than a couple of nights together at any one time, right? And this is… this is a whole _month_."

"And you don't want—"

"What I don't want, is for us to _pay_ for somewhere, and for something to happen, and both of us feeling tied to a place because we paid for it. This way we… I just thought. This is better than some cheap motel, or us to need to keep moving. And… if one of us needed an out—"

"You think I won't make it a month," Michael says, laughing, even though he's secretly wounded. Even if everything he _is_ would tell Alex that's exactly what to expect.

"I don't know if either of us are gonna make it a month," Alex says, soft and sorrowful, but honest. "I hope we do. But I… I just wanted to make this as easy as it could be for both of us. So I looked up costs, and rental, and… house sitting I just… I found it by accident. And I promise you. I seriously just saw that card over on the notice board just now. I was gonna wait for us to stop somewhere tonight and ask you what you thought, so we could maybe look for somewhere together, if you thought it was a good idea. Honest."

Michael believes him for the pleading puppy eye look he's giving him, and there isn't an ounce of anger in him about Alex half-making this decision for them. If anything, he feels out of his depth that Alex has put this much thought into it. That Alex is going to such lengths to spend a full month with _him_. _Willingly_.

"Then, let's do it."

"Yeah?" Alex asks, hopeful and in that tone that's going to get him _everything_. Does Alex even know what he does to him when he sounds like that? Michael isn't convinced. But this is a month of new discoveries for them both. And without breaking eye contact he raises their joined hands, kissing the back of Alex's, ignoring the voice in his head calling him a _sap_.

* * *

The house is enormous. Michael already feels out of place just for standing outside the front door. But the owners show them both in enthusiastically, and Michael leaves Alex to do most of the talking. There are plants to water, fish to feed, and what Michael is far more excited about than he's saying, a huge Labrador called Chester who keeps bringing him his ball to throw.

"I think you made a friend there," Alex mumbles out the corner of his mouth as the owners pause from giving their instructions. Michael can't respond for Chester shoving his face into his hand.

"So?" Alex says the second they're alone, arms spread wide in triumph as they stand in the living room. "What do you think?"

The guest room that is theirs for the month is almost four times the size of his trailer. The lounge is bigger than even Mr. and Mrs. Evans' place. And Chester has a good run for the length of the backyard, that Michael can already picture he and Alex exploring in the morning. Michael is half-convinced he's just dreamed this place up. Maybe this whole situation.

"Yeah," he says, "it's good."

"Just _good_?" Alex says, looking back at him in disbelief. Michael can't have him think he doesn't _love_ this idea. He's just having trouble convincing himself it's happening still, is all.

"C'mere."

At Michael's gesture for him to come closer Alex walks towards him, stopping when they're a couple of feet apart. Michael closes the gap between them, cupping his face with one hand as Chester tries to get his ball. "It's perfect," he says, smiling when they pull back from kissing, with Alex gripping him by the waist so he can't get too far.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Michael agrees, kissing him again. They even have the decency to keep their hands to themselves for a good hour after the house owners have gone just in case they come back for something they've forgotten. But then it's just too much, and they can't _not_ touch one another. Within minutes of stripping Michael climbs into Alex's lap right there on the couch, impaling himself on his cock.

"Better?" Alex asks as they adjust, stroking his palms up Michael's thighs.

"Much." Michael crosses his arms behind Alex's head as he begins to ride him, slow and unhurried, intent on taking their time over everything tonight.

"You sure you want to do this for a whole month?"

Michael groans for the feel of Alex inside him, cupping his face to claim his mouth. "Just you try and stop me."

"I have no intention of stopping you," Alex says, splaying his hands over Michael's hips. "Not when you feel like this."

"Like what?" Michael asks when Alex moves just a fraction and the angle change is incredible, leave Michael to chase it feeling like he might already come.

Alex silences him with a hungry kiss as he moves, swallowing Michael's answering groan.

* * *


	2. Chapter 2

When they wake together on their first morning in the house, Michael needs a moment to remember where he is. He cracks his eyes open to see Alex sprawled out beside him fast asleep, his fingertips resting on Michael's stomach where his hand has slipped from his waist in the night.

The number of times they have woken together this _relaxed_  Michael can count on one hand. So this he intends to cherish and catalog, memorizing every feature of Alex's face at rest. Though he can't not touch him and let him sleep for longer; their comforter has slipped in the night and he can't stopping himself reaching out. Michael strokes his hand down his arm and Alex doesn't even stir for it. He swirls his thumb over his side and Alex doesn't move.

Propping himself up on his forearm, Michael pulls the comforter up to cover Alex, slotting his fingers through his to hold against the bed. It feels strange, but Michael is hit with a wave of contentedness for the simplicity of this moment. He only moves when he remembers the dog waiting for them downstairs, carefully getting up from the bed so Alex can go on sleeping undisturbed.

Michael throws on his jeans, uses the bathroom, then runs down the stairs to be greeted by a happy, tail-wagging Chester. He lets him outside, measuring out the exact amount of food the house owners had instructed them to, topping up his water bowl then standing out on the patio enjoying the quiet. Michael flexes his toes against the cold of the tiles, breathing deep as he surveys the sprawling yard in front of him.

"Morning."

Michael spins for the sound of Alex's voice, a burst of affection welling up in his chest for Alex sleepy-eyed and his hair standing on end. He's only put on boxers, his prosthetic on full display. That show of openness and vulnerability just builds that warmth in Michael. He loops his hands around Alex's waist, leaning in for a kiss. "Well, good morning."

"Couldn't sleep?"

"I slept just fine. But I remembered he might need to go out." Michael nods towards the dog and turns, smiling when Alex slips his arms around him to hug from behind. He kisses Michael's shoulder and Michael laces his fingers through Alex's against his chest. The nights he's let himself fantasize about this little trip of theirs becoming a reality, all Michael has envisioned is awkwardness. Or maybe not _all_. But to be stood here in the silence of a sprawling backyard watching a dog chase a ball across the lawn is not what he could have imagined, even with his most hopeful of thinking. Stood here with Alex like this tricks him into thinking he can have it all.

"Do you want breakfast?" Alex mumbles into his shoulder blade, pulling Michael back from his thoughts.

"You cooking?"

"They said there were eggs and bread to use up."

"Then, we should. Not yet though."

"No?" Alex asks as Michael turns in his arms.

"No." Michael splays his hands wide at Alex's waist intent on kissing him right here on the patio, for just as long as he likes.

* * *

This is good, _great_ even. They've been here a week now, and Michael can't remember a time in his life when he's felt this at peace with anything. So even if all this time they're spending together comes to nothing, Michael will have this to remember at least. Though as he takes in the neighborhood they're walking through hand in hand as they walk Chester, Michael lets himself daydream that this is something they could have someday.

He doesn't know how. Alex is still a soldier, and he is just a drifter. There is no way any money they earn would afford them a place like this. But still, Michael wants _something_ for them, even if it isn't all this grand. He's never held somebody's hand like this before at least, never had anyone want to be seen with him like Alex does. At least, like he does here.

"You're good with him," Alex says calling Michael out of his daydream. When Michael looks, he's gesturing at Chester, who wags his tail for the attention and continues his charge ahead.

"I always wanted a dog," Michael says, shrugging. "Just like this one. A pup; someone I could raise, take care of. It's stupid, really."

"No, it isn't," Alex tells him, squeezing his hand to get Michael's attention.

"What about you?" Michael asks, smiling, something that comes so easy to him here. "You wanted pets? Or have 'em at some point?"

"Not when we were kids, no. Can you imagine _my_ dad, with a pet?" Alex says, and when he laughs it's tainted with something sadder.

"No. Not really."

"I can only imagine what he might've done to our _pets_ trying to discipline us."

Michael shudders for the thought of it, eyes down on their current charge and bending to scratch Chester's head, earning himself a tail wag.

"We had some great dogs in service," Alex adds, his face wistful in memory, Michael thinks.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. So smart. Protective, funny. With their own personalities, you know?"

"Yeah. They're trained up real good, right?"

"They are. And they're fearless. They're part of the unit, really. We lost a couple, and it was… it was as hard as losing any one of us."

Michael nods, squeezing his hand. He can't truly understand, but imagines how painful these things were for Alex just from the look on his face. "Hey. C'mere."

Alex looks at him as Michael pulls him to a stop, turning until they're facing. "What?"

"Nothing," Michael says. But it's not true. He wants to do something big, at least big for them. So he closes the gap between them and cups Alex's face in one hand, drawing him into a kiss right there on the street. In public. Where anybody could see.

Alex smiles against his mouth and pulls him in by the waist, his eyes dancing with laughter when they pull apart.

"You're not supposed to laugh."

"I wasn't laughing," Alex says immediately, shaking his head and cupping Michael's face between his hands.

"Then, what?"

"It's just… _good_. Being like this," Alex tells him, kissing him again.

The sun is setting. They've had the most relaxing of days. And there are weeks stretched out ahead of them for them to do the same. It _is_ good, Michael thinks, curling his hand through Alex's when they start walking again.

* * *

"So this… other side of you," Alex says as he kneels between Michael's legs, hands on his thighs for balance. "What can you do with it?"

" _Other side_? Like, alien?" Michael's hands flit to support him but Alex quickly slaps them away. He doesn't like to be _fussed_ over, refuses to view his lost limb as anything but a slight inconvenience. Which Michael hates; how is he supposed to ignore when he knows he's in pain, when he wakes to find him massaging over his stump, flexing his leg as though he can still feel his foot attached?

"Yes," Alex says, sweeping his hands up Michael until they're on his chest and splayed wide. Michael is half-surprised that it's taken this long for Alex to mention his _alienness_. He wants to share everything with Alex. But Michael isn't sure how.

"Well. Isobel can—"

"I didn't ask about Isobel," Alex tells him, shaking his head, "or Max. I want to hear about _you_. _Only_ you."

There is a glib retort on the tip of Michael's tongue but he silences it before it gets out. If they are truly learning to be together then he can't have a smart answer for everything. Alex already knows his every attempt at deflection, anyway, so what would be the point?

"Well. I can move things. Pick stuff up. Just by thinking about it." He doesn't want to demonstrate. He doesn't want to feel like some kind of _lab rat_ or _circus freak_ to Alex; even though he already knows that's the last way he'd look at him.

Alex drums his thumb against his skin asking him to anyway, backing it up with an encouraging smile. And what is Michael supposed to do with that? Alex splutters with laughter and ducks for the pillow launched at his head, gripping tight to Michael's sides for support. " _Off_."

"What?" Michael says, tucking his hands beneath the pillows and grinning. "You asked."

"Show me again—not with a pillow."

Michael thinks of the blind and closes it, then turns on the lamp beside them bathing them in a soft light. He raises the volume on the music playing on Alex's laptop, and sends the towel he'd abandoned on the floor from his shower back to the bathroom, smiling as Alex watches in fascination for it whizzing through the air.

"And do you know… anything about it? Like what causes it? No, not cause; like… is it an extra sense or something?" Alex asks, moving to sit in his lap to get comfortable, and not objecting once when Michael holds his hands out to help.

"We don't know anything for sure. It's sort of hard to look into when, you know. Anything we do could reveal this secret."

"Like… what you were doing at the crash site?"

Michael nods, tensed for Alex's reaction. Alex only nods, absently tracing out Michael's ribcage with his thumbs.

"So you can't like… read my thoughts, or anything."

"Why would I need to when they're written all over your face?"

Alex smiles at that, nodding.

"Feels like you're reading my mind half the time," Michael adds, watching him.

"Oh?"

"Just… sometimes it's like you've reached right in there and found something I wasn't even ready to get out. Or admit I wanted. Or something."

Alex nods again, fingertips trailing through the hair on Michael's chest, his hand slipping down to trace out the length of him through his jeans with his thumb. "Sometimes."

"When you're not projecting what _you_ want," Michael adds, looking down at his hand and grinning.

"I always want you," Alex says with a shrug. "That's not projecting. It just _is_."

Alex really might be the death of him if he keeps coming out with things like that. Michael doesn't know what to do with it so does the only thing he can do. Deflect in the way that is uniquely _them_. His eyes fall to Alex's shirt buttons, slowly unbuttoning them with his thoughts. Alex drops his head to watch and Michael is relieved to see him smiling for it. But then he plucks at his belt with a featherlight touch and Alex stumbles forward, laughing for it.

"Since when are you ticklish?" Michael asks as he does it again, watching Alex squirm.

"I'm not."

"You most definitely are."

"Maybe I am just for _this_ ," Alex says, gesturing at his own stomach and watching as Michael slides the belt from its buckle without touching him.

"Maybe so."

"Not that I don't _love_ this," Alex says as he watches Michael unbutton his jeans and begin to slide down his fly, "but I… I mean—"

"You want me to stop?"

"I want to—I like your hands on me," Alex says, his eyes dropping from Michael's as though he's uncertain with his own words.

"Well that works out well," Michael says, unslotting his hands from the pillows and finishing removing Alex's shirt. "Because I like getting my hands on you."

"Yeah?"

Michael snorts in answer, slipping his hands beneath Alex's t-shirt and pushing up. "I thought that was pretty obvious by now."

"Well. Sometimes it's good to have a little reassurance."

"Reassurance, huh?" Michael says, carefully sitting up.

"Sometimes."

Alex drapes his arms over his shoulders pressing their chests together. Michael closes his eyes as they kiss, stroking his hands over Alex's back.

* * *

He's never wanted to do this for a person. He's never even had the chance. But as Michael sneaks back into the house with his arms full of groceries, he feels _giddy_ about what he has planned for tonight.

"You're still asleep?" he whispers once he's put the groceries away, carefully sitting on the edge of their bed where Alex is sprawled out on his front.

"I think so."

Michael grins, and his face hurts for it. There must be something wrong with him for feeling so happy about _this_. He gets to fall asleep with Alex at night and wake up with him in the morning, in a large, comfortable bed and not another person in sight. He can pretend Alex is _his_ , and he _is_ , in a way. Though they haven't really defined anything between them. But they must be something, mustn't they? For Alex to even suggest coming away like this. And it's all going so _well_. Of course, if—

"You think way too loud," Alex says, cracking an eye open and smiling. He sighs as Michael pushes back his fringe from his forehead, sneaking a hand out from beneath the comforter to grip his thigh. "And you're dressed. What's that about?"

"I got a surprise for you."

"Me? And… you?"

Alex is adorable when confused. Michael's stomach knots that he can even _think_ such a thing so freely. He carefully lies down beside Alex throwing an arm over him, propping himself up on his side.

"Yes."

"Well. What is it?"

"Not much of a surprise if I tell you, huh?"

"Is it a surprise I have to move for?" Alex asks, wriggling just enough so that his arm is free and playing with the buttons on Michael's shirt.

"Well. _Eventually_."

"How long away is _eventually_?"

"Hours."

"Then. Come back to bed," Alex insists, tugging, and only content when Michael strips and crawls back in beside him.

* * *

"What's all this?"

Michael spins almost dropping the pan he's just checked the sauce in for hearing Alex approach. He watches with a knot in his stomach as Alex smiles in confusion at the set table, fingers pinching the tablecloth and looking at candles with a soft frown.

"What's it look like?" Michael says, busying himself for fearing Alex thinks this is stupid. "Dinner."

"Are you… wining and dining me?" Alex asks in disbelief, and now Michael really does feel foolish.

"We talked about us never dating. And I don't think we ever really cooked a meal together our entire lives."

"Well," Alex says as he comes to inspect what he's cooking, "there was that ramen that time—"

"This is _not_ ramen."

"I can see that."

"This," Michael says, gesturing at the pan he's stirring, "is mushroom and peppercorn sauce. And we're having it with steak, potatoes, and green beans. I even got us some ice cream for dessert."

Chester is sulking on the porch for only being given the tiniest sliver of steak. Michael had to shut him out there because he can't deal with the puppy eyes and mournful glances at the oven.

"I… had no idea you even knew how to cook." Alex presses a kiss to the back of his shoulder as he speaks, a new habit between them that Michael loves.

"Well," Michael says, half-turning, "I don't often get the chance."

"Where'd you learn?" Alex says, holding his hands up in surrender when he goes to help take something to the table and Michael shoos him off.

"Picked stuff up over the years. First real place I learned was a foster place. When I was, say… eleven? After the whole… fundamentalist freak thing? I stayed in the only place I ever really liked. I was there maybe a month. Older couple, taught me a little cooking. Guy showed me a little around a car. It was good. _Home_ , almost."

"How come you couldn't stay?" Alex asks, as Michael nods for him to sit.

"I was their last foster kid before they moved away. They were retiring; had some crazy number of kids go through their doors in their lives. Real good people. Closest thing I ever had to parents, anyway."

He doesn't want Alex to feel _sorry_ for him. So before he serves their dinner he bends down to where Alex is sitting and claims himself a kiss. A good one. The kind that leaves them both smiling like the hapless idiots this little trip of theirs has so far turned them into.

"You ready for dinner?"

"Yes, I am."

Michael serves their plates up making them look as good as he could make them, experiencing a horrible moment of doubt that this might not even be a dish that Alex's likes. But the look on his face when Michael slides the plate down in front of him tells Michael he's got this right.

"This is amazing," Alex says with his mouth half-full.

"Well, good." Michael pours him a glass of the wine he'd researched nodding for him to try it, happily pouring some for himself when Alex approves. And everything is good; their dinner is delicious even if he does say so himself, and this relaxed atmosphere means they reveal more to one another as they eat, taking it in turn to share stories from their past that they don't already know.

He's even lit _candles_ , and Alex by candlelight is something else. The contentment in his smile as they talk puts thoughts in Michael's head of a future that is something he thought he'd never have. Nothing is decided, of course, _they_ are still so new, and this whole thing they're experiencing is in a weird little bubble. When they go home who knows what will happen. But in moments like this one, Michael can allow himself to hope.

"You cooked. I can wash dishes," Alex protests afterward when they've sat for a while and are comfortably full.

"Yeah, but that's what we've got a _dishwasher_ for."

"But still."

"Just go sit for me," Michael asks, pulling Alex to his feet. He leans in to kiss him looking so pleased Michael might pinch himself. He watches Alex make his way through to the lounge then quickly tidies up after their meal, loading up the dishwasher.

Alex is sat with his head resting on the back of the couch when Michael goes through to join him, quietly sitting down by his side. "Thank you," Alex says, turning his head to smile at him.

"For what?"

"Tonight? Dinner?"

Michael shrugs, though there is no way of hiding just how _pleased_ he is that this evening is working out.

They talk for a little longer, musing about what might be going on at home. Though not in any way to dwell, and not to recall anything bad that has happened back there. It's such a simple, effortless conversation that leaves them turned to one another completely at ease, Alex's legs thrown over Michael's across the couch.

"You wanna maybe… try something with me?" Michael asks, gently squeezing Alex's thigh.

Alex lifts his head and smiles, covering his hand. "Well, I _would_. But… we just ate."

"Not _that_. Alex, you have a one-track mind."

"With you? Always."

"But it's not that," Michael says, leaning in for a kiss.

"Then, what?"

Michael nudges for him to move his legs, making sure he's settled before he stands. He picks up Alex's laptop and hands it to him to type in the password. He has a playlist in mind that he'd looked up earlier when Alex had fallen asleep in his lap.

And now he feels foolish, wiping his hands on his jeans so they don't feel so clammy. He's never done this with anyone, never wanted to until now. But he holds his hand out to Alex anyway hoping that he won't see how it's trembling, and pastes on what he hopes is a confident smile.

"Will you dance with me, Alex?"

Alex eyes light up as he slides his fingers into Michael's, letting him pull him to his feet. He settles in Michael's arms feeling like he's brimming over with quiet excitement, holding on in a loose grip. When he's settled and lifts his head to smile, Michael sees he really is just as elated as he feels. Alex leans in to kiss him, then rests his head on Michael's shoulder, letting him turn them right there beside the couch. Michael doesn't think he's ever known peace like this.

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

"So if you could do anything you wanted. Anything at all. What would it be?"

Michael lifts his head from where he's sprawled out on the couch for Alex's question. Alex is also stretched out though on his side, taking up the full length of the second couch that forms an L shape with his in the middle of the lounge. And this is how so many of their conversations have started here. One of them blurting out a question, with both of them doing their best to share their thoughts. "Anything?"

"Anything."

Michael toys with the beer bottle he's got resting on the floor, raising up just enough to take a mouthful. "I'd... like to know more about where I'm from. Know why we came here, how we did. Why we were sent."

"Do you think you had any choice?"

Michael can't know. There isn't enough residual memory for any of them to really know everything. He's always felt that if he knew more about what came before, then he would feel more settled than he does. More like he knew where he fit in this world, this universe, really. So he shrugs, because he doesn't really know how to answer, because all that he's thinking is such a weight of words, and he doesn't want to feel weighed down right now. Not here, spending this time with Alex.

"I wish you'd been adopted."

Michael rolls to his side mirroring Alex. "Oh, yeah?"

"I wish you'd had a place that was… I wish you'd had a family like Isobel and Max got. That you'd… not been in the system, and that you'd had somewhere to… I don't know. Stay. Fit."

"Well. Sure. That sounds great—"

"I think it… I think it would have been good for you."

 _Good_ doesn't even cover it. Michael spent years fantasizing about a family home. That maybe the Evans would realize his _connection_ with Isobel and Max and want him too, and if not that, then maybe someone in their neighborhood would foster him. Which of course never happened. Michael doesn't believe in the wishful thinking of turning back time, of doing things different, not normally. He doesn't let himself indulge in those kinds of thoughts. It hurts, and it's pointless, and is just a reminder of all he is now. Though Alex, Michael thinks as he studies him, he'd wishful think him a different life.

"I wish you'd had a different dad."

"Yeah," Alex says with a cold laugh and a bitter smile, "you and me both."

"Your brothers, though. Things are okay with them? I mean, as good as they can be?"

Alex shrugs, playing with the label on his beer bottle. "I don't know any different. I don't know if how _our_ family is, is just how all military families are. I mean, I love my brothers, obviously, but sometimes I feel like—a lot of the time I feel like I don't know them, at all. Like none of us really know each other. It's not like we really see each other all that much. The occasional email, or phone call. But I don't feel like I need more from them either? I don't know."

"You wouldn't have served though. If your dad hadn't made you."

Alex smiles, turning over on his back and stretching. "I had all these great ideas about being a musician."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I thought… it was just typical kid stuff, you know? Dreams. At least, I learned to think that, over time."

"But you… you liked what you did in the end, didn't you? Code breaking, and all that?"

"Oh, yeah. I enjoy all of that. I probably would have gone into something like that anyway, through college, or whatever."

Michael pictures Alex on a college campus, the jewelry and nail polish he'd used to wear still prominent; though not as prominent as his easy smile. This Alex in his imagination is carefree, content in his world, living a life his father deprived him of. Michael wants it for him, badly, and has to push the thought away. He has a glib comment waiting on his tongue, but Alex beats him to it.

"I think you would have liked college."

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"I don't know why you think that."

"Because. You're good with people, even if you always have your guard up. You're smart; I think if you'd had some kind of scholarship, you would've… I don't know. I just… think you could have had a really different life."

"You say that like you think I had some kind of potential," Michael says, dismissing his words. It doesn't matter that a scholarship was once his dream, was once the only thing he was holding on to for a way out of his life.

"I do. You did—you _do_. You were always so smart, you could… any time we did any tests you just sailed through them like you already had all the answers. And you… look at everything you've done since, with the ship and everything."

Michael wants to dismiss all this too, but when he looks over and sees the earnestness on Alex's face, he knows that he can't. He also can't see himself through Alex's eyes. "The whole _alien_ thing kind of conflicts with all of that."

"It hasn't for Max and Isobel. Not—not entirely."

Michael doesn't know what to say to that. "So. Where do you see you and me in this fantasy life you're dreaming up?"

"Oh," Alex says, laughing. "Knowing me, how I _felt_ around you back then. I think I'd have followed you to any college anywhere in the world."

Michael's stomach clenches for the weight of Alex's words, aching for that life to have been theirs. "Oh, yeah?"

"I would," Alex insists, turning his head to look at him.

"I would've… I would've followed you too."

"You would?"

"Absolutely," Michael says. "I wouldn't have believed you wanted me around, but—"

"I would. I _did_."

Michael watches Alex shift again, thinking about getting them both second beers as Alex gets comfortable. But he waits, because it's clear Alex still has things to say.

"When I left, when I—I used to think about you, all the time. Every night, when I was training. When I did anything, for years, I was thinking about you. What you might be doing. What _we_ might be doing if I was still around."

Michael closes his eyes to the bombardment of memories of doing the same. Of waking up in a cold sweat for imagining Alex _fighting_ , or being wounded. Of wondering what Alex was making of his life. Of holding his breath any time he heard news of an army death, or even seeing a military uniform wondering if Alex had come home.

All those years of thinking about Alex, of wondering if all he felt was some teenage infatuation. Every moment of that had dropped away for seeing Alex stood peering through his Airstream's door. He'd loved Alex, and he still does now. It's not something he has any explanation for, like so many other things in his life.

"Well. We're here now," he says, because anything more than that will reveal too much. Like how he wishes he was better for Alex. Like how he wishes he wasn't who he was. And also how he wishes at times that Alex had never come into his world. Because he'd thrown him off course, stolen his focus, made Michael believe he could have something _normal_ , and _beautiful_ in his life. And none of that is Alex's fault.

"We are," Alex agrees, the tone of his voice suggesting he already knows what Michael is thinking; like he so often does. It's a relief to be so understood, yet at times it's stifling. But Michael _wants_ to work on this thing between them so doesn't lash out, or snark his way out of it. He keeps silent until he can get those thoughts under control.

"I'm pretty tired," he says when some time has passed, the two of them watching the movie playing on the TV that Michael hasn't really absorbed a moment of. "I might go up."

"You want me to come with you?"

Michael does, he wants to fall asleep with Alex in his arms like they've done every night since coming away. But he also needs a few minutes, a little time alone to process all this _hope_ Alex has for him. All these years they've never been out of each other's thoughts. So he gets to his feet and shakes his head, stretching beside Alex's couch. "Come up when you're ready."

"I might finish watching this."

"Okay," Michael says, snagging Alex's fingers when he holds his hand up. When he tries to let go Alex tugs him, and Michael knows that smile. He bends down to kiss him, closing his eyes for the fingers curling through his hair, before dropping his face into Alex's neck and holding on tight.

"But I'll be up soon."

Michael is asleep within minutes despite their conversation and the memories it's churned up, even if it is fitful and restless sleep. He startles awake to the feel of Alex sliding in the bed behind him, tucking himself behind his knees and throwing his arm around his waist. Michael falls back to sleep to kisses over his neck and shoulder, smiling for the _goodnight_ whispered then kissed into his hair.

* * *

"So, I got you something," Michael says when the moment he walks into the kitchen where Alex is making them lunch.

Alex looks at the bags in his hands as he slides them on to the counter. "To eat?"

"I don't think _that's_ how you're supposed to use it."

"Then, what?" Alex asks, slicing through the sandwiches he's made, and holding one of the plates out to Michael. Michael puts it back on the counter, holding his hand up telling Alex to wait.

"First," he says, pulling a bag of chips from one of the bags and instead of just popping the bag open like he might normally do, Michael takes a bowl from the dish rack to pour them in.

"You got us chips?" Alex asks, leaning back against the counter and smiling.

"Well, yeah. And I happen to remember these are your favorite."

Alex looks at the bag now on the side and smiles harder for it. "Actually, yeah. They are. How did you—"

"All these years, I did learn _something_ about you. But anyway. That's not what I got." Before Alex can protest Michael picks up both their plates and the bowl of chips, taking them out to the table on the patio. He grabs Alex by the waist when he follows and gets him to sit, then runs back inside, pouring them both glasses of juice as well as pulling his _gift_ from the bag.

"Okay. So what'd you get? You're looking… I _want_ to say pleased with yourself, but now I'm not so sure."

Michael hopes beyond anything that Alex isn't offended, won't get mad at him for trying to _help_. "Well," he says, toying with the packet out of sight down on his lap, "I couldn't help noticing you were limping a little this morning."

"For which I blame you, last night," Alex retorts, smiling at him over his juice as he sips. "And for which I wasn't complaining at all."

"Wasn't meaning that kind of limp."

Alex ducks his head, silently laughing. Though when he looks up again he does lean over, squeezing Michael's knee. "Thank you. I know. And I'm fine. It just aches sometimes, is all."

"And it's so _new_ , really," Michael adds. "You're doing… for what happened, you… you're doing great."

One sleepy night a couple of nights back Alex had told him how he'd got injured. He'd avoided the worst of the detail but still painted enough of a picture for Michael to pull him into his arms and hold on tight. He'd not slept for imagining the agony Alex must have been through, is still in awe about how brave, how _okay_ he is with what he's lost. He isn't, not totally, Michael knows that he can't be. But he's still _proud_ of Alex for how fast he's recovering.

"I'm fine," Alex repeats, smiling when Michael covers his hand to squeeze before sitting back up.

"You are. But I saw you limping, and I… well. I don't think for a second this is gonna be a miracle cure, or—"

"You've found some magical way to grow my leg back?" Alex teases, stealing a chip. "Or, you know. An alien one?"

If that was one of his abilities, Michael would have done that the moment he knew about Alex's leg. Right there in full view of everyone. He wouldn't have even hesitated. "No. 'fraid not. Not even close."

"Then, what?"

Michael slaps the bag of Epsom salts down on the table, almost dislodging his glass in the process. "I thought. Maybe tonight, since you were insistent this bathtub was big enough to swim in. You could take a bath. And you could… soak. In this."

"Will you join me?" Alex asks, his fingers digging into the package and a soft smile on his face.

How is Michael supposed to resist an offer like that? "Of course."

* * *

"So this is what regular people do? When they're shacking up together like we are?" Michael asks hours later, his head laid back on the edge of the bath with Alex secure in his arms.

"You're asking _me_?"

"Uh. Yeah?"

"Because…?"

"Well," Michael says, raising his head to drop a kiss on Alex's shoulder, "firstly, because you're _here_. And secondly because, well. You're _regular people_."

"In what way am I _regular people_?" Alex asks, laughing, raising his leg up for them both to look.

"Yeah, but… _that_ don't change who you are."

"But _regular_?"

Michael thinks about this and rethinks his words, squeezing Alex in a light hug. "Okay. So maybe not all that regular. But still—"

"I left, when I was seventeen. And after training I was _serving_ , pretty much the whole time I was gone."

"You telling me this is your first leave of absence, ever?" Michael imagines Alex throwing himself into work for ten years straight through this stupid sense of duty his father tried to instill in him, and wants to set something on fire.

"No," Alex says, squeezing Michael's arms in what feels like reassurance. "But even so. I don't—I didn't _do_ regular stuff."

Michael processes what he's hearing, not sure what to think. "So you're telling me, in all that time—"

"In all that time, I never met anybody to do regular stuff _with_."

Michael is relieved to hear it, though also confused. "But you _met_ people."

"Guerin. You're in no position to be judgmental about that."

"Who says I'm judgmental?"

"Well," Alex says, slotting his fingers through Michael's, "it's either that, or you just got really tense for another reason."

"We're in Epsom salts. How can I possibly be tense?"

"Which, by the way, _thank_ you," Alex says, turning for a kiss.

"They're helping?"

"I ache less. So, yeah. I think so. Thank you."

"Well, you're welcome."

"So if you're not tense for being judgmental, then… what is it?"

"Nothing."

"Michael—"

"It's just… I don't _exactly_ enjoy the idea of… you know. _You_. With anybody else. I mean I'm not saying you should've _waited_ all these years, but. Just picturing you, with… _anyone_. I… nope," Michael says, shaking his head and squeezing Alex tighter. "I just put some bad images in my head. Not gonna happen."

"I don't exactly like thinking about you with other people, either. But it's… I mean, I _hope_ , anyway. I hope that's all behind us now?"

Michael hopes so too, he can't imagine being like this with anyone but Alex. But he can't hope too hard either. "Well. That's what this month is about. Right?"

Alec turns just enough so that's he's almost on his side, sneaking his hand round the back of Michael's neck. "Right," he agrees, leaning in for a kiss.

* * *

"This is your idea of us being in _public_ together?" Michael whispers as they settle in their seats. "A movie theater with all the lights out?"

Three weeks they've been here now in this idyllic little existence away from everything that they know. Three weeks they've been playing at _normal_ , of taking walks in the neighborhood with their temporary dog. And yet they are yet to have a proper _date_. Which Alex has been adamant about fixing since waking up this morning, going through increasingly elaborate options until deciding each were too much, and not _them_. Apparently, _this_ is. Michael doesn't mind, he might even agree since they've been discovering all sorts of shared interests since coming away together. Including TV shows and movies.

"Well if the lights were on, we wouldn't be able to see the screen the same, right?" Alex replies, carefully checking their drink is in its holder. Michael's not sure how he feels about sharing _that_ much soda in one sitting, but Alex had insisted. Along with so much movie candy Michael can feel his teeth protesting already. But for Alex, he'll give just about anything a try.

"I guess so."

"And besides," Alex says, turning enough for Michael to see his face in the light from the commercial currently playing. "We never really got to do any of this stuff when we were kids. Not together. Not like… _dating_."

"We did plenty of other stuff," Michael replies, winking, and he can tell Alex's exasperated face is only teasing for the softness of his smile.

"We did. That doesn't mean we can't have this now."

"No. You're right," Michael agrees, deliberately stretching so he can get an arm around Alex's shoulder and tug him closer, smacking a kiss to his temple. Alex snuggles against him as best he can for the seat divider between them, sliding his hand into Michael's lap.

Alex gets involved in movies. Whenever they watch something together, Michael gets more enjoyment from watching _Alex_ enjoy what they're watching than anything he can see on the screen. Even here in the theater stroking his thumb over Michael's thigh, Alex never takes his from the movie. Alex drinks without seeming to blink, and barely notices when it's _Michael's_ hand pressing candy to his mouth and not his own.

He's also _jumpy_ , which Michael finds hilarious. When they've been in _their_ house Alex has buried himself in Michael's arms when he's not liked what he's seeing, or yelled in frustration at protagonists who don't behave how he thinks they should. But here in the theater those reactions are minimalized to gripping Michael's leg tighter, or pulling back with a gasp. At one particularly violent jolt Michael squeezes him tighter and presses a kiss to Alex's shoulder. Alex nudges back against him though still won't look away from the screen.

When they leave the theater, Alex is talking non-stop about the movie, disagreeing completely with how it ended. And Michael is delighted for his reaction, so amused for Alex being so giddy, that without thinking he pulls him to the side outside a bar they'd seen earlier and kisses him. Alex kisses back with equal enthusiasm, throwing his arms around Michael's shoulders and leaning on him.

"What was that for?" He asks with his elbows still hooked over Michael's shoulders when they pull apart.

"Just 'cos."

Alex nods, brushing their lips together. "Good."

"Good?"

"Yes," Alex says, kissing him again. "I like that you—I like that we can be like this here."

Michael nods, squeezing his sides. "Because we can't at home."

Alex founds, dropping his gaze. "It's not that we _can't_ —"

"But you wouldn't want us to be like this when everyone we know can see us," Michael says, already hating the drop in his mood. That he might _embarrass_ Alex is something he's become used to ever since they became a thing. But he's forgotten since being here how low that makes him feel. He tries to pull away before Alex can see this change in him, but Alex won't let go.

"I can't pretend I _didn't_ feel like that," Alex says, with such contrition in his voice Michael has to look. "I was… you know your reputation, Michael."

"And you couldn't let yourself be associated with that," Michael agrees. He doesn't even blame him, really. Which doesn't mean he doesn't feel like hell.

" _Let_? No," Alex says, frowning and still leaning against him, apparently not intending to let Michael go. "No; it was more… I hadn't truly figured myself out. And I _thought_ I needed time to—I guess I needed time to adjust."

"To me?"

"To the idea of being with someone. To being with _you_. When I got back, my dad was still there, and he was… let's just say he wasn't your biggest fan."

Michael smiles, because that is the biggest understatement he's ever heard. "I get that."

"No. You _don't_ ," Alex says before kissing him. "I got back, and _this_ had just happened—" Michael looks when Alex knocks his leg against his. "—and I didn't really know who I was. Not really. Not back home. And I didn't mean to make you feel like that was all _you_. I'm sorry for that—for all of it. But I was… I needed some time to adjust."

"I get that too," Michael says, and he does, he can understand all Alex is saying, even if he doesn't like how it makes him feel.

"And you have to understand that… Michael. It's been ten _years_. But I still wake sometimes to the sound of you screaming. When all I can see is what my dad did to your hand." Alex steps back and takes Michael's hand so gently, raising it to kiss over all his scars. Michael's own memories rear up at him and he fights desperately to push them away. Alex knows and won't let him, still staring back.

"When Isobel came to your trailer that time, all I could… Michael. All I could picture was _that_. All I could think was… it felt like every time we let ourselves just _be_ together, we were punished for it. And I know that's stupid, that I let myself think of that at all. But I… I was confused. And _scared_. You got hurt enough because of me. And I got hurt because of you. And yet… you're the only person who has ever made _sense_ to me. Like we fit. Like nobody else ever has."

"You always made sense to me," Michael says when he can make himself talk, asking his heart to stop pounding like it is.

Alex smiles and cups his face, drawing him into another kiss. He doesn't say anything else leaving all kinds of unanswered questions for Michael. But he takes his hand again when Alex offers it, nodding in agreement when Alex gestures towards the bar.

* * *

"I can't believe we're going home tomorrow."

How has this month gone so quickly? Michael closes his eyes to the kisses over his skin, throwing an arm around Alex when he snuggles closer. "Yeah."

It isn't that he doesn't want to go back. A part of him _doesn't_ , the wistful dreamer in him that envisions he and Alex living life a month at a time on the road. But at home there is Max, and Isobel, and pretty much all he's ever known. And now there is _Alex_ , who he'd spent years thinking about, trying to forget, still holding on to a hope for.

But this little bubble they've been in these past four weeks, with barely a raised voice between them and _so_ much love, how can they recreate any of that back home? They are still _them_ , and they still have the roles they fall in to. Alex in the military, and him, well. Whatever _he_ is.

"It's gonna be different. For us," Alex says, nuzzling into his neck then pulling back.

"Yeah."

"We can't be… what we were."

"No."

"And we can't be… what we are now," Alex adds. Michael wants to pull away, to avoid whatever is coming. Though his less rational side just wants to ask _why_. Why can't they be this?

"Guess not," is all he says though, keeping his voice from faltering as best he can. Alex knows though, raises an eyebrow and props himself up higher.

"I just meant… we'll have to find a new way of being. We can't—I don't want us to go back to how things were. When we weren't… honest with each other. When we weren't honest with anybody else. About us."

"You mean. You want people to know you're sleeping with this riff-raff?" Michael asks, laughing, because he really can't hope for that.

"No," Alex says, laughing back and leaning in to kiss him. "I'd like people to know I'm _with_ this riff-raff. That we're… new. But that we're figuring things out."

There is a buzzing in his ears, and Michael's heart has started to pound. He wants to pull away from Alex though is frozen where he is, pinned in place by him. He can't mean what he's saying. He can't.

"Is… that okay?" Alex asks, his face falling and beginning to look worried.

"I… I'm not sure I heard you right, is all."

"Well. What did you think you heard me say?"

"That you… that you wanted to be with me. Like… _really_. Out in the open, and stuff. _Honestly_."

"Oh," Alex says, now looking less worried, and nodding. "Good."

" _Good_?"

"Yes. _Good_."

"Good that…?"

"That you didn't misunderstand me," Alex says, splaying his hand over Michael's chest. "That you… I mean, is that not what you want?"

Michael's words stick in his throat, paralyzed from speaking. He needs to make his feelings clear on this to Alex any way he can. So he surges forward claiming a hard kiss, hand through Alex's hair to keep him in place. He rolls him, carefully so Alex is now bracketed between his arms, kissing him until they're both breathless. When he pulls back Alex is giving him an uncertain, confused smile.

"Was that a no? A yes? What was that?"

"That was me, kissing you."

"Well I know what it was, but—"

"Then why are you asking?" Michael says, which is apparently the worst thing to say. Alex's expression fills with doubt, and if he could move, then Michael is sure that he would.

"Because. I want—are you saying that after all this, you _don't_ want us to try? To… what do _you_ want, Michael?"

Michael kisses him again, heart racing when Alex doesn't really kiss back. "You. I want _you_ , Alex."

"Well. _Good_."

"It's just not that easy."

"Why not?"

" _'Cos_. I'm… alien, Alex. _An_ alien. And you knowing about it—"

"It's not just me—"

"Which, again, is a problem."

"Why is it a problem?"

"Because. The more people that know, the more risks are involved. The bigger the chance that someone slips up along the way and lets this secret out. And we… it'll be bad, Alex. If people know. Not just for me, Max, and Isobel, but… everyone who cares about us. Everyone who knows."

"Well," Alex says, licking his lips and frowning. "I don't care about that. I mean, I _do_. But I… I'm willing to take any risks for this. For _you_. So long as you're not… planning on disappearing in that ship of yours."

Of all the things Alex could be worried about, in everything he's revealed to him, his concerns are limited to what him being separated from Max and Isobel meant when they were kids, and fearing Michael's about to leave unannounced.

Like he could now. Like he stood a chance the second he saw Alex stood there knocking on his trailer door.

"You're not. Are you? Leaving, I mean," Alex asks, curling his hand over Michael's against the bed. Michael kisses him for it, thinking that it's the best way to make him understand.

"No. No, not now." How could he ever leave, with Alex looking back at him like he is?

"But you… you're not sure you wanna be with me when we get back?" Alex asks, still looking as nervous as Michael now feels. And that's the last thing Michael wants.

"I'm not saying that at all," Michael says, kissing him in reassurance. "I'm saying that… how do we know how we're gonna feel when we get back, huh?"

"I'll still feel like I've always felt about you."

"And so will I," Michael says, dropping his forehead against Alec's. "Nothing's gonna change that. Not after all this time. But how do we… I mean, I want all this. This all sounds, and _has_ been _great_. _Amazing_. But are you seriously telling me that when we get back, you're still gonna want me like this?"

Alex nods; not in agreement, but as though to say he understands his words. He moves just enough for Michael to know to give him a little more room, then wraps his arms around his back.

"I didn't stop thinking of you for _ten years_ , Michael. I'm not saying I didn't _try_ to. But I… I never stopped."

"That's not the same," Michael argues.

"No. It isn't," Alex agrees. "But I know that I want… I want us to _try_. Can we try?"

Michael closes his eyes, willing his words to come out right so he can be honest about what he feels. What he fears. "What happens, when we get back. And we're good, we're _really_ good. And then I slip up. I do something you don't approve of, or… your dad comes back—"

"My dad's not coming back—"

"But let's say he does. Let's say something else happens, and you… see me with those disappointed eyes you keep turning on me every time _we_ get too difficult. Or I let you down in some way. What happens then?"

"And what happens when _you_ think I'm too straight-laced, or too _military_ , and you think it's too much effort for us to give things a go?"

They both have so much to lose. But they also have so much to gain. The only thing stopping them both is being scared to try to change things between them. Michael truly hopes that they can.

"So how about, you and me, we go back. We take things slow. And we _talk_ ; since you wanna talk so much these days."

"Talking's worked with us being here, hasn't it?" Alex asks, relief starting to seep into his smile.

"It has," Michael agrees. "I'm not saying it's been easy, but. Talking's good. We can work on that."

"Then we can… work on everything else. Can't we?"

There is so much hope in Alex's voice. So much openness. Michael wants to trust it, but needs to trust himself a little better first. But he also wants Alex; how can he not?

"Baby steps. Okay? We do this slow, and we do this easy."

"That sounds good."

"No more walking away from me the moment you think talking's too hard."

"No more doing stuff that makes me wanna walk away."

"How about we meet somewhere in the middle of all that, huh, Alex?"

Alex gives a painful swallow, but nods. "I can do that."

"Me too. Can you do something else for me?" Michael asks, playing with the hair at Alex's temple, telling his stomach it isn't in a tight, terrified knot.

"What?"

Michael noses against Alex's cheek before kissing him, once again closing his eyes. "If you get mad at me. Or we get too much. And you think we can't be together again. Can you tell me about it? Like… really tell me? Instead of me still thinking maybe we're a thing, and you just… going cold on me?"

Michael had felt so _light_ for being with Alex, so much calmer for having him around. He'd thought when he'd walked away that last time back at home was just another one of their arguments. Not that Alex was really planning on staying away from him for good. He can't take that feeling again, can't feel like his heart is splitting in half. He can't take Alex looking at him so guiltily either, but Alex won't let him look away. He shifts just enough to get his arm free and cups his face, leaning up for a kiss.

"I won't. And I'm sorry. I won't do that."

Michael smiles in relief letting out a shaky breath, pleading with Alex to mean his words.

"And can you do something for me?" Alex asks, dropping his gaze.

"Sure. Anything you want."

"Can you… all this talking we did. We did a _lot_ of talking here. But we… a lot of what we said was in the past tense. Like… about how we cared about each other before. Not how we do now."

They have talked so _much_ , and they have shared so much, that really, Michael should have no doubts about how Alex's feels. But in this new openness, he could really do with hearing it out loud. _Saying_ how he feels himself.

"This your way of telling me you love me, Alex?" Michael says, teasing in his voice even as tears prick in his eyes.

"Yes," Alex says, with his own tears forming, "it is."

Michael closes his eyes to them, needing a moment to calm. "Love you back," he whispers, because his voice his cracking, claiming a kiss before he can say any more. Alex whispers his own I love yous back as they turn on to their sides, pulling each other close.

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

"You sure you wanna go in there with me like this?" Michael squeezes Alex's hand so he knows to look down, trying not to look too nervous when he looks back up.

They are stood in the parking lot of the Wild Pony and have been for more minutes than Michael is comfortable with. They're _back_ , and they have to be, but what he wouldn't give for them to be climbing back into his truck and just turning around. Though he also knows excitement for what their life might be like together here now. In fact, he can't wait for it, so doesn't know why he feels so torn.

"I am," Alex agrees, squeezing back with a confident smile. "Are you?"

"Oh. I am so ready to be off the market," Michael replies, pretending to roll his eyes. "All these people fawning all over me—"

"And for that," Alex says, nudging against his arm, "you're buying the first round."

"Well it just so happens I was planning on anyway."

"And by buying, I don't mean helping yourself to the bar when Maria isn't looking," Alex adds, giving him a pointed look.

"I can't believe you would accuse me of such a thing," Michael says, hand to his chest pretending to be wounded for Alex's words.

"I can't believe you thought I wouldn't," Alex says, tugging him into the bar.

"You're awful smug now that you've got me on your arm. You know that, Manes?"

"Maybe," Alex says, shrugging. "I could say the same about you."

The Wild Pony is full. Everyone they know seems to be in here tonight, which is partly intentional. Alex wants to meet Max and Isobel _properly_ , and Michael needs the moral support of Alex by his side when he sees them for the first time after their little break. Michael can feel several pairs of eyes on them the minute they're inside and is sure, or at least has convinced himself, that the volume in the bar just got a little lower.

Alex looks at him in expectation, and Michael knows this is his move. Whatever he does now shapes so many things; what he and Alex are to one another, and who they are together in their mess of a town. So Michael does the only thing he can think of. Which is to gently turn Alex in his grip and cup his face, drawing him into a kiss in full view of anyone paying attention. Which they all are. Michael can feel Alex smiling against his mouth for the holler they hear coming from the bar.

Alex's smile when they pull apart is a reward Michael never knew he wanted. Alex claims another, quicker kiss, then nods towards the bar.

* * *


End file.
